


Ricordami

by Margo_96



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: After Season 6a, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Claiming, Claiming Bites, Derek Hale Deserves Nice Things, Derek Has Feelings, FBI Agent Stiles Stilinski, First Dates, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Happy Ending, Light Angst, M/M, Mates Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Past Braeden/Derek Hale, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Smut, Top Derek Hale, Woodworker!Derek Hale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-19
Updated: 2017-07-19
Packaged: 2018-12-04 07:34:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11550495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Margo_96/pseuds/Margo_96
Summary: After Derek left Beacon Hills and the pack behind, he kept in touch with Stiles. For updates, naturally.When Stiles moves to Washington DC to start his pre-FBI program, Derek offers his help to help him move when no one else has time.





	Ricordami

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Sterek fic!  
> Let's cross our fingers!

After leaving the pack in Mexico, Derek had been tirelessly searching for the desertwolf with Braeden.  
But when Braeden had said that she had become obsessed with her mission, she wasn't kidding. She barely let them take a break. And when she thought she had a lead, she would research every possible angle.  
Being obsessed was an understatement. But for a lack of a better description, this would have to do.  
Also, their relationship, or whatever it was, had ceased to "people who have the same goal working together". No dates, no sex. Not that there were a lot of dates before this. Braeden barely had the time or she didn't feel like it or there was some life and death situation that needed to be dealt with asap. 

But Derek was exhausted.  
So after eight months with her on the road, he made his own way.  
To D.C.

But in this whole time, there was only one constant thing.  
Stiles.

For some reason, Derek could still remember Stiles perfectly. The four moles in a row on his left cheek, down his neck. His pale skin. The amber color of his eyes that seemed smooth as honey and how they had sparkled and sparked when he had used his sprak for the first time. His lanky figure and limbs. How he is smart enough to make the pack's battle plans. How his research has saved the pack's hide on multiple occasions. His included. His stubborness. And above all, the snarky, witty and sarcastic comments he would make. Most of the time just to rile up Derek. But Derek must admit that he misses their banter. 

And once in a while, him and Stiles would text. His only link to news from Beacon Hills and the pack. 

Derek learned that Jordan Parrish, deputy of the Beacon Hills Police Department had joined the supernatural world as a hellhound. How Scott added Liam Dunbar to the pack.  
Derek learned about chimeras and Dread Doctors.  
He learned about how Stiles had had a bad feeling about this Theo guy from the beginning but that no one had believed him.  
About how Hayden Romero, Corey and Mason joined the pack.  
How Lydia went to Eichen House and got a hole drilled into her head. 

But during Stiles' waterfall of words, Derek notices that Stiles wasn't telling him something.  
Something big.  
But Derek doesn't press for more.  
And with each passing day, Derek is glad that he made the right decision to get out when he did.

Maybe he should tell Stiles to do the same. The boy has been through enough.  
But he knows that Stiles is loyal to a fault. He would never leave his alpha and brother. Not would he leave his friends behind.  
But he can try. 

And that's why he decides that when Stiles texts him with his two-month update, that he would suggest getting out as well and leave it to Stiles to decide. Just so he knows he has the option. 

But when Derek takes up his phone to do just that, he ... forgets what he was going to do or who he was about to call or text. He put his phone back on the table and continued working on a wooden table for a client. 

Every once in a while Derek would pick up his phone as if he is waiting for someone to call or text him, but he can't for the life of him remember who.  
All his clients call him on a different phone and the pack just doesn't reach out to him.  
And it's not like he has any family left except for Cora, who is now back in South America. 

She's never been a communicating person after all. Neither was he.  
Plus, she knows how to take care of herself. She has done it now for quite some years.  
Derek isn't worried. About her, that is. 

Braeden still texts him from time to time with updates but he ignores them. All is well. He has a job, that gets his mind off of things and rest. No one to look after, except himself. No life or death situations anymore.  
He isn't afraid to sleep anymore. His nightmares are few and far between.  
He actually has some sleep, like a deep sleep without being afraid of getting attacked at any moment.  
Peaceful. 

And yet.  
There is something that misses. A presence.  
But who or what he misses, he has no clue.  
Some nights he would wake up from dreams of a mole-speckled skin and amber eyes. With Derek's name on his plush lips. 

Or some nights, he sees a guy wearing a lacrosse shirt with the nummer 24. But the guy always had his back to him. 

And Derek.  
Derek can't help but think that this guy, those eyes and moles look familiar.  
But that's insane, right? He would remember a guy with such handsome features. 

Something itches at the back of his mind thinking about that guy and he desperately wants to see why, but he can't seem to reach it, however hard he tries. 

So he let's it go.  
He doesn't like it, but he does.  
There's no way he could reach the guy if he doesn't know him. 

So Derek goes on his morning runs. He works with wood. He dreams about the guy. He lives his life. 

XX

A month and a half later, Derek is stumbling sleep drunk through his apartment after an exhausting day with difficult clients who either didn't know what they wanted or even knew what they were talking about, when he suddenly felt a tug in his heart. 

An invisible punch in his stomach and his mind send him to the floor.  
A pressure behind his eyes that was getting higher en higher, until...  
"Stiles!" Derek choked out.  
The ache behind his eyes subsided. But noticed that his eyes were his electric blue instead of his usual green ones. And that the ache in his heart remains. 

Derek chokes out another sob as heb tries to catch his breath, clutching his heart with his clawed right hand and with the other, he tries to find his balance again, supporting his weight on the coffee table. 

Man, he should be happy he didn't land with his head on the side of the coffee table. He would heal, that's not the problem. But it would still hurt like hell.  
And that statement sounded suddenly way too much like Stiles.  
Stiles is fine, isn't he? 

He should be texting Derek in a couple of days with a new update on how quiet it is right now and how excited he is to go to the FBI training unit. 

His control over his eyes and claws takes a moment to regain. Huh. Weird. Normally, he has near perfect control over his wolf.  
So why is it now so hard?  
And why is there still a hole in his heart that aches? 

A few days later, Stiles calls with an update: all is quite and he can't wait to start FBI training.  
If he sounds off, Derek doesn't notice; too concentrated on his work. This time, a chair with pretty precise measurements. A gift for an older woman or something like that.  
Derek never asks why, but for some reason clients always feel the need to justify or clearify why they need something. Derek doesn't care about why. He cares about what. But clients will be clients and he indulges them. 

Derek ends his call with Stiles and goes back to work.  
But he feels strange. Something feels off. The ache in his heart has lessened but is still prominent.  
But he can't think about that now. He has a client to appease. 

And even though he has enough money to last him a lifetime, he likes the day to day routine of checking his email for other orders. Checks his books, calendar and deadlines and then he works. 

It isn't until a few weeks later that Stiles calls again with another useless update and a reminder that he is coming to D.C., does Derek realise that a new feeling has made its home in his chest: hope. 

Ever since Derek had stumbeld through his apartement, Stiles has been at the front of his mind more often than not.  
To say Derek was a little confused by that, well ...  
Actually, come to think of it, it isn't that surprising at all.  
Or maybe he always knew but didn't want to aknowledge it.  
Their friendship didn't exactly start off on the right note. 

Also, Derek didn't and still doesn't have the best experiences when it comes to relationships.  
Or dating.  
Or people in general. 

But that was all in Beacon Hills, the place of his nightmares.  
And hello, the kid was a menace!  
And also, a kid! The kid of the Sherriff!  
He knew that he could never do the things that Kate had done to him. But still, he wasn't going to risk getting arrested. Again. 

But under all the banter with Stiles, the snark and witty remarks, was the underlying smell of mate. 

Which Derek, after a night of contemplation, realized. A week after what made him break down. 

There is still that feeling that Stiles is not telling him and he hates that.  
But who can blame him? The kid probably thought this entire time that Derek hated him.  
Which is not that ridiculous, considering that Derek had been a confused little shit at that time.  
Derek is now in that place where he can admit such things. 

The fact that Stiles is his mate, the realization of that particular fact didn't freak him out as he thought he would when he was still younger.  
Instead it gave him a sense of reassurance, of belonging.  
Of home. 

Even though Stiles was not here yet, Derek has hope.  
But is also a little frightened.  
Stiles is human. He has no clue what being mates means to wolves.  
What if Stiles rejects him? 

The fact that he can remember Stiles so perfectly, makes a lot more sense now.  
Alongside of what he usually remembers, there are now long, spiny fingers dancing along mole-speckled skin. The way Stiles throws his head back when he laughs, baring his long neck, that Derek wants to mark. Every damn possible inch of it. He wants nothing more than to leave his mark on him, telling everyone Stiles is his.  
But Stiles is not his. Yet. 

He dreams of meeting Stiles again when he moves to D.C.  
Ranging from waiting for him, shyly. To slamming him against a door for old times' sake.  
From asking him out on a date first, to stripping him off his clothes right where he's standing. 

With the anticipation of Stiles coming to D.C., Derek often wakes up after such dreams, hard, leaking and aching, claws out and clawing at the bedsheets.  
Derek already had to make the trip to the shop on several occasions. He rather doesn't want to know what people are saying behind his back. 

 

And then finally, the day that Stiles would move into his dorm arrived.  
Derek had offered to help him move, since both the Sheriff and Scott couldn't be there.  
Derek wasn't surprised by Scott not being there. From what he had heard from Stiles, Scott wasn't living up to his best friend status anymore. And it seemed that Stiles was realizing it too. 

Though Derek was surprised by the Sheriff not being there, he could have a good explanation since he's, you know, the Sheriff.  
But Derek gladly stepped in. 

When Derek arrived at the dorms, Stiles' Jeep was already parked and Stiles was casually leaning against it with two coffees waiting next to him.  
Derek cracked a smile. They both had the same idea. 

But a closer look told him that Stiles is not as entirely relaxed as he makes it out to be.  
(Since when can he read Stiles that well?)  
His shoulders are tense and his eyes are alert and anywhere but at Derek. 

Derek would say he looks like cornered prey.  
But he knows that Stiles is anything but prey.  
Hell, Stiles has saved Derek's sorry ass on multiple occasions.  
He knows Stiles can take care of his own. 

But why would Stiles look like that now?  
Unless something has happened that Stiles is still not telling him. 

The feeling only grows when Derek parks the old Camaro next to the Jeep.  
(He couldn't get rid of that thing even if he wanted to.)

"Still got the old Camaro, I see," Stiles says when Derek gets out. 

"Still got the old Jeep, I see," Derek retorts with a smile tugging at his mouth.  
Stiles smirks a little too, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. 

Derek hands Stiles the coffee he bought. 

"And here I thought I was being original," Stiles laughs. 

"I can take it back," Derek suggests a little too innocently. And he starts to grab the cup from Stiles but Stiles cradles it to his chest. 

"Like hell you are! We need all the coffee we can get."  
Derek laughs. Then he sees how little Stiles has brought with him and he raises his eyebrows at him. 

"This is what you needed help with?" Derek asks.  
Stiles squaks indignately, "Excuse me, mister! It is five stories up and there is no elevator. My little arms can't carry that upstairs and afterwards still be okay. I am 147 pounds of pale skin and fragile bones. So sue me for needing a little extra werewolf strength!"

"Why did you bring so little?" Derek inquires.  
The beat of silence that followed was a bit too long before Stiles aswered.

"What? It's a small room, I needed to choose."

There was something going on here, but Derek decided it was best to let it slip. For now.  
When everything is settled, they would have to talk. About a lot of things.

XX

Stiles hadn't lied, his dormroom is small.  
And because Stiles had only so many things, it only took them three runs to the car and back. 

Between the two of them, they got everything set up rather quickly, but it is still nearing evening when they finished. 

Stiles' dormroom is small but cosy. No way for two people could live here, but for one student more than enough space to live. 

After they'd finished, they looked at it for a few seconds. 

Stiles clapped Derek on the shoulder, "Thanks man, I owe you one." 

In Beacon Hills, such a gesture would have send Derek reeling and threatning that person with bodily harm.  
Now, it feels ... good. 

"No worries," Derek replied, "Now come one, I made dinner."  
And Derek starts for the car, hoping Stiles would just follow him.  
Of course not. 

Stiles flails around a bit, "Why? You didn't have to do that dude!"

Derek turn around, smirking, " Of course I had to. You're a college student now, Stiles, you need all the free food you can get." 

Stiles opens his mouth to start arguing, but since there is not much to argue with that statement, he closes it and follows Derek to his apartement above his little shop. 

When Stiles sees the shop, his mouth stops to the floor. 

"You made all that?" 

"Don't sound so surprised," Derek answers and he opens the door to his apartment. 

"Man, we have so much catching up to do," Stiles mutters. 

"Indeed we do," mutters Derek to himself. 

Derek's apartment is small compared to the loft he had in Beacon Hills. Also homier. None of that industrialized feel to it.  
The only thing in common, it is a one spaced apartment. Except for the bathroom and bedroom.  
From the kitchen you have a nice view over the living room.  
And the floor to ceiling windows, of course. Derek had a thing for those. Sue him. 

When Stiles entered the apartment, his jaw dropped. Everything was broken white and light wood. It was so open and light that it was such a contrast with the loft in Beacons Hills that he has a hard time believing it is the apartment of the Derek Hale. But here they are. 

"Close your mouth, a bug will fly in," Drek jokes. 

Stiles looks at him funny.

"Did Derek Hale just make a joke? Is this a dream?"

And there it is; the banter that Derek has missed. He lets out a laugh. 

"Man you should smile more!" Stiles exclaims, which makes Derek blush. 

"Just take a seat. The food will be ready in a few minutes," Derek says, still fighting a smile. 

They talk while waiting for dinner and they talk during dinner. They talk mostly about what Derek does now and how he came to be here. How he got into woodworking.  
They talk little of what happened in Beacon Hills. Mainly because everytime it is brought up, Stiles shuts it down with a short answer and changes the subject again. Derek knows what Stiles is doing, but figures that now is not the time. 

After dinner, they move to the couch. They sit next to each other but with some few inches away from each other. And they talk some more.  
The easy banter between them is back. The only difference now is that they are two different people getting to know each other again. 

When the evening is creeping towards midnight, Stiles makes his way back to his dormroom. They part with the promise of seeing each other again soon. 

When Derek hears the Jeep pulling out of the parking lot, he flees to the bathroom and lets a cold shower run.  
After being in the presence of his mate for an entire day and night after so long without him and without touching him, has done things to him.  
But the cold shower does little to help and has to release himself in the shower, with Stiles' name on his lips. 

XX

Two days later, Derek gets the first text from Stiles since dinner. 

From Stiles:  
Can we talk? 

If that isn't ominous. 

To Stiles:  
Sure, where?

He doesn't have to wait long for a reply. 

From Stiles:  
You free now?

To Stiles:  
Come on over. 

A second later, the bell in the shop dingles. So Stiles had been waiting in front of the shop. Something must be going on. 

Derek opens the door to his apartment and lets Stiles in. Stiles is a nervous mess. Hands going through his hair, tapping on his leg, playing with the hem of his shirt.  
They move to the couch in the living room. 

They sit in silence for a few moments.  
Then. 

"How much do you remember?" Stiles asks. 

Derek gives a confused look. 

"About what?" 

Stiles refuses to look at him. 

"About me." 

"About you? Stiles, what is going on?"

Stiles lets out a frustrated sigh and slumps against the couch. 

"There might be something that I haven't told you about," he finally admits. 

"Yeah, I got that feeling. What is going on, Stiles?" 

Stiles look at him with sad eyes. 

"After the Dread Doctors and the chimeras, it wasn't all over. I told you it was quite. It was really not."

Derek stays quiet, giving Stiles the time to explain. 

"What do you know about the Wild Hunt?" 

Shit.

"Shit."

"Yeah, you could say that," Stiles smiled sadly. 

Something starts to puzzle a few pieces together in Derek's mind, but for now he pays it no attention, all his attention on his mate. 

"Some of us got taken," Stiles continues. 

And there it is, the picture. 

"Stiles, did you get taken?" 

The silence that follows is all telling. Derek can smell the saltiness of tears and when he looks over at Stiles, has a closer look, there he sees them. 

Derek doesn't want to press, but he has to know.

"What did you mean when you asked how much I remembered about you?" he whispered.

There is a long silence. 

"After we defeated the Wild Hunt and got the people back home, everything should have gone back to normal," Stiles takes a shuddering breath, "Everyone should have all the memories back from everyone."

That is what Derek heard too. That's how the myths and legends about the Wild Hunt go. 

"When I got released from the Wild Hunt, I thought everything would go back to normal. Well, as normal as can be in Beacon Hills, right?" 

Another pause. Derek has to fight the urge to wipe away Stiles' tears, to take him into his arms and hold him close. Protect him from the world. Lock him in his apartment and never letting him go. But that's his wolf talking, and Stiles doesn't need his wolf now. He needs someone to listen to him. 

"I got the feeling that sometimes, I don't know, this might sound crazy, that sometimes they still don't know that I am back. I would see them think about something I said. Or I would get a weird look from them when I show up at pack meetings. As if they had forgotten I was back."

Tears are now flowing freely. Derek's eyes start to water too. He doesn't have to ask who 'they' are.  
Before Derek knows what he is doing, he has put a hand on Stiles' hand and squeezes.  
Stiles looks at their hands, but doesn't pull back. 

"Stiles," Derek's voice sound rough, "I remember everything about you."

Stiles shoots him a surprised look. 

"The spell of the Wild Hunt hit me as well," Stiles lets out a broken sob, "but when I remembered again, I remembered everything. It was like I got punched in the gut. There was something missing in my heart. When I remembered you again, it was as if that hole had been filled again." 

Stiles' lips quirk. 

"There might also be another reason why I remember everything about you."

Stiles is looking directly at him now. But Derek is not sure how he is going to take the news, so he looks at their hands, still entwined. 

"Stiles, you're my mate, of course I will remember everything about you." 

There, he said it. 

"What?" Stiles asks in a small, soft voice. 

"I said, you're -"

"Yeah, I know what you said. Since when?"

Derek sighs. "Since always, I guess."

Stiles looks at him incredulous. 

"You guess?"

"I wasn't exactly in the best place when I was in Beacon Hills, you might remember." 

Stiles lets go of his hand. 

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that."

"It's okay."

Silence. 

"I think I should go," Stiles says while getting up. 

He's already halfway towards the door when Derek regains his bearings of what just happened. 

"Wait, Stiles!" 

Stiles has his hand on the door knob, but freezes. 

Derek so desparately wants to hold him, comfort him. But they're not there yet. 

"The reason I told you this is because you deserved an explanation. I know it's a lot to take in. But please," Derek takes a deep breath, "don't shut me out." 

Stiles nods slowly. 

"I'll call you." 

And with that, Stiles is out the door. Derek mentally curses himself. Why did he have to bring it up? He could have waited until everything was settled down. When they both had the time to get to know each other again.  
But nooo, Derek had to ruin it the first moment he got the chance. 

Derek lets out a hurt whine and lets his head fall to the door.  
The smell of Stiles in his apartment is still fresh. His smell is the strongest on the couch, where Stiles was seated. He lets himself fall on the couch, face first on the spot where Stiles had sat and takes a deep breath of his smell.  
This is not weird. Not weird at all. 

XX 

It is three weeks before Stiles gets back to him.  
By then, Stiles's classes have already started and is Derek swamped with work. 

But one rainy day, Stiles is standing in front of Derek's door, dripping wet, chattering teeth. 

"What did you remember about me?" 

Derek just pulls him into the apartment and into a hug.  
And if he buries his face in Stiles' neck and starts senting him, no one has to know. 

"Are you ... senting me?" 

Well, maybe except for Stiles. He was always to smart for his own good. 

"Maybe."

Stiles lets out a snort. 

"You are incorrigible, Sourwolf."

The nickname makes Derek's heart swell. 

"Can't help it, it's a wolf thing," Derek smiles. 

Stiles huffs out a laugh as well. 

"Come on, let's get you in some dry clothes," Derek suggests and takes Stiles to the bathroom.

"If you wanted me out of my clothes, all you have to do is ask, dude," Stiles jokes. 

Derek's dick twitches in interest. But Derek doesn't respond to that. He can't trust his voice or mouth right now, cause he might actually take Stiles up on that offer. 

He leaves Stiles in the bathroom with a towel and goes to his bedroom to find some clothes that might fit Stiles' lanky figure.  
He has filled out some in his chest, but is still not as broad as Derek. 

Derek grabs a shirt and sweatpants that are a tad on the small side for him, but might just be enough for Stiles. 

He returns to the bathroom, where Stiles has already stripped to his boxers.  
Which makes Derek stop in his tracks for a second before regaining his bearings.  
Fortunately, Stiles has his back to him, otherwise he wouldn't hear the end of it.  
On the other hand, Stiles's back is a canopy of moles. And Derek can't wait to trace them all with his tongue. 

He clears his throat and Stiles turns around. 

"Thanks dude," Stiles says and takes the clothes Derek hands him. 

"I'll uh, I'll be in the living room," Derek says and practically flees to the couch. 

A few moments later, Stiles joins him on the couch. Derek notices that he sits closer than the last time.

If Derek had trouble keeping control when he saw Stiles in just his boxers, seeing Stiles in Derek's clothes was a challenge ten times worse. 

The way Stiles' and his smells mix so well! And Stiles is sitting so close.  
He has to clench his fists. 

"So," Derek starts, "you had a question." 

Stiles laughs.

"Yeah," his smile falters a little and his tone got serious, " since you said that you remembered everything, because, you know, mate thing and all. It got me curious. What exactly is it that you remembered?"

Derek sighs. 

"I don't know where to start," he admits. 

Stiles just waits.

"Because I don't exactly remember not remembering you," Stiles snorts, "I don't know, your laugh. How smart you are," Derek doesn't dare look at Stiles, "your moles, your eyes, your spark. I do remember this dream where you were standing with your back to me, you were wearing your lacrosse shirt with number 24."

Stiles smiles.

"Dude, that is so cheesy!" Stiles exclaims and slaps him on the arm. 

Derek just blushes.

"I'm sorry for dropping that on you last time," Derek says softly. 

"It's okay," Stiles says, "it was not because of that, that I left."

"What?" Derek asks, "So you're totally okay with us being mates?" 

"Dude, yes, totally," Stiles laughs and plasters himself to Derek's side. 

Then his smile turned a bit sad. 

"What is it?" Derek inquires. 

"When I told you about the Wild Hunt, that was not all that happened that I didn't tell."

Derek patiently waits for Stiles. 

"You know about the Dread Doctors and the chimeras," Derek nods, "I killed someone." 

Derek looks at Stiles, to see if something's different. But he is the same spastic kid he's always been. 

"What happened?" Derek asks and draws Stiles closer so that Stiles' head is buried in his neck. 

Stiles takes a shuddering breath. The smell of tears and sadness and guilt already in the air. 

Derek takes Stiles' legs, so that he is sitting sideways on Derek's lap. 

"One of the chimeras, one of the first we encountered, Donovan, was his name. He came after me when I was working on my Jeep, because it broke down again," Stiles sniffles, "He came up from behind, he stung me with his, whatever it was," Stiles rubs a hand over his left shoulder, " So I ran to the nearest shelter, the school library. They were painting or rebuilding there or something. There was a iron construction, which wasn't completely done yet. I climbed it, he still came after me, started screaming things about my dad. The only option I saw was bringing the construction down. I didn't mean to kill him. He fell on one of the iron staves. He was dead instantly."

Stiles fell silent. Derek started rubbing circles on his back. 

"The body was never found thanks to Parrish. But Theo saw it all," at Theo's name, Derek started growling, he knew all about Theo, "he told Scott. Scott didn't react that well," Derek can imagine, Scott is all about no killing, "We had a falling out. A big one. I don't think we actually recoverd from that. Even though we acted as if nothing has happened. Even now, there is this distance."

Stiles falls silent and doesn't start again. He just buries himself further in Derek's neck. Derek tightens his hold on him and places a kiss on his head. 

They sit in silence for a while.  
Then the sound of soft snoring fills his ears. Derek smiles and picks Stiles up and carries him towards his bedroom.  
He puts Stiles down on the bed.  
Derek changes quickly in a loose shirt and boxers and crawls in bed next to Stiles. He pulls him close to his chest and pulls the covers over them. 

XX

The following morning, Derek wakes up before Stiles, and the sight that greets him is one he can get used to. Stiles still flush to his chest, sleeping soundly, dressed in Derek's clothes.  
Derek smiles, kisses Stiles on his head and gets up. 

Derek is in the middle of making breakfast, when he hears Stiles stirring awake in the bedroom. 

When Stiles enters the kitchen, Derek has to remind himself that he is cooking.  
Stiles in his clothing, looking sleep rumpled, does things to him every. Single. Damn. Time. 

"Goodmorning," Derek smiles. 

Stiles smiles shyly back, "Morning."

"Take a seat," Derek says, motioning to the kitchen table, "breakfast is almost ready."

There is a comfortable silence wherein only the radio plays the top 40. 

"I'm sorry," Stiles says. If it weren't for Derek's hearing, he might not have heard Stiles.  
He turns around and looks at him. Stiles has his head down, looking at the table, playing with the side of the placemat. 

"What for?" Derek asks. 

"For breaking down yesterday. For... I don't know, being a bad mate or something like that. Why would you want a mate like me?" 

Derek abandons cooking and walks over to where Stiles is sitting. 

"Hey, none of that, okay?" Derek crouches in front of Stiles and takes his hands in his. 

"But I killed someone," Stiles sniffs. 

"In selfdefence, from what I heard. Stiles there is nothing bad about you," Stiles looks up at him at that, "Bad things happened to you and you are coping with that, there is nothing bad or wrong about that."

A pause.

"And Scott is an idiot if he doesn't see your worth and your struggles." 

Derek wants to say more, but he suddenly finds a warmth pressed to his mouth. Stiles is kissing him! And then Stiles' hands are in his beard. 

Stiles breaks away first, resting his head against Derek's, catching his breath. 

"Thank you," Stiles whispers. 

"Of course," Derek answers lamely. But it has the desired effect, Stiles snorts and gently pushes him back.

"Make sure breakfast doesn't burn, asshole," he smiles. 

Derek laughs and goes back to cooking. 

The rest of breakfast passes in comfortable silence and the occasional banter. It's easy. 

When they finish, Stiles puts their plates away. Derek comes up behind him and wraps his arms around his waist and puts his head on Stiles' shoulder. 

"You sure you okay?" he asks.

Stiles leans into him. 

"Not for a long time, but getting there," he answers honestly. Derek understands that. It took him a long time too, to get over what happened in Beacon Hills. And his life generally. He is still not entirely okay. He still has nightmares. The first year, he went to a therapist. He still sees her from time to time. She was the one to suggest he start his woodworking business. One perk; she knows all about the supernatural, so he didn't have to hold back or lie. 

They stand there in silence for a while. Then Derek leads Stiles to the couch.  
He put Stiles in his lap, so that Stiles is straddling him. And starts senting him. Stiles buries his face in Derek's neck. Thus giving Derek better access to scent his neck. 

 

After a while, he feels Stiles' lips on his neck, leaving little kisses behind. A rumble escapes Derek's throat. Stiles chuckles. Chuckles! The bastard.  
Derek nips Stiles' earlobe in retaliation.  
Stiles laughs, fullout. It is the most beautiful sound Derek has ever heard. 

Derek stares at Stiles' eyes. 

"You have no idea what you're doing to me," he says. 

"Like what?" Stiles asks, a bit too innocently. 

Derek growls at that. Eliciting a smirk from Stiles. 

"After realizing you're my mate, I couldn't see you, hear you. Touch you," he grumbles unhappily. 

A dangerous glint sparkles in Stiles' eyes. A challenge.

"So what are you going to do about it?"

Stiles rolls his hips and drags his hands down Derek's chest. 

"Never letting you go," Derek growls and attacks Stiles' mouth with his own. 

Stiles lets out a moan and opens up for Derek.  
Stiles' hands disappear in Derek's hair, while Derek holds on to Stiles' hips.  
Derek finds the hem of Stiles' shirt and slips his hands under it, roaming over Stiles' naked back.

Derek breaks away from the kiss and kisses down Stiles' jaw towards his throat.

"Off," Derek orders. 

"So bossy," Stiles says.

Derek just growls and pulls Stiles' shirt off.  
The sight that greets Derek is one he committed to memory.  
The pale chest and stomach of Stiles is, just like his back, covered in moles. 

"You are beautiful," he whispers and starts sucking hickies all over Stiles' body. 

"Dude, I can't be the only one half clothed here. Take it off."

"Don't call me dude, when we're doing this," Derek grumbles but complies and pulls off his shirt. 

Stiles' eyes grow wide at the sight. 

"Look who's talking."

Stiles lets his hands roam over Derek's broad shoulders down to his naked chest. 

Stiles kisses Derek, but now without the urgency. Just a short, sweet kiss. 

"Stiles, bedroom, now," Derek's voice is rough and his pupils are dilated. 

Derek picks Stiles up without trouble and carries him to the bedroom. 

There he lays Stiles on the bed and crawls over him and kisses him sweetly. From there, he makes his way to Stiles' chest.  
Stiles makes the most beautiful sounds.  
He flinks his tongue over one of Stiles' nipples, making Stiles moan deliciously.  
Then he makes his way down, down.  
Meanwhile, Stiles' breathing became erratic and his heartbeat speeds up. The smell of both of their arousal thick in the air. 

Derek arrives at Stiles' belt. Stiles' hands have disappeared in Derek's hair again. He makes quick work of Stiles' belt and pulls his pants down, leaving his boxers on. 

Derek nuzzles Stiles' crotch, taking in the sweet smell of Stiles and mate.  
Stiles hasn't stopped moaning now. 

"How is this fair? You, pants off too, now," Stiles orders.

"Bossy," Derek imitates Stiles, but does as he says. Stripping of his shorts. 

He crawls back over Stiles, sliding their still clothed dicks together, punching a moan out of both of them. 

They kiss and slide their bodies together.  
Stiles' hands glide over Derek's back, down to his ass. He slips beneath the tight boxers and kneeds Derek's ass. Both their cocks are straining uncomfortably against their boxers.

Derek's hands find their way to the band of Stiles' boxer and slowly starts to takes them down.  
Their kiss has evolved to breathing the same air. 

And then both their underwear is off and they are both naked in front of the other. Eyes and hands roaming each other's body, getting to know each other physically. 

Derek moves down Stiles' body again and then he takes Stiles in his mouth. Punching another moan out of Stiles. 

"Yes! Oh, god!" 

Derek takes him all the way, up until his nose reaches Stiles' pubes. 

With one hand, he holds Stiles' hips still, and with the other, he starts playing with Stiles' balls. 

Stiles' hands are clutching the sheets hanging on for dear life. 

Derek moans around Stiles' cock, sending shivers up Stiles' body. 

Stiles taps Derek's shoulder.

"Come up here, I want to come with you in me." 

Derek growls and kisses him furiously. 

Derek's hand slips behind Stiles' balls and brushes lightly over Stiles' hole. Making Stiles gasp.

"Are you sure about this?" Derek asks. 

Stiles nods, "Yes," he breaths out.

Derek answers by kissing him on the mouth, long and sweet. He leans a bitbto the side to grab the lube and a condom from the drawer. He quickly uncaps the lube and generously coats his fingers in lube. 

And then he breaches Stiles with the first finger. 

"Fuck, Stiles," Derek breathes, "so tight."

Stiles is writhing on the bed. 

"Please, Der,"

"What is it, Stiles? Want another? Another finger in your tight hole?"

"Yes! Please!"

Derek smirks and adds a second one. He starts to scissor Stiles open and starts looking for that sweet spot. 

"Aah, there, right there! Please, Derek!"

There it is.  
Stiles is no where near ready enough for Derek's cock, so he adds a third and starts slowly easing in and out of Stiles. Trying everytime to reach that sweet spot again. 

Derek even adds a fourth finger and Stiles is already a writhing mess on the bed. 

"Please Derek! I'm ready! Please! Please!" 

And Derek complies. 

He pulls his fingers out, making Stiles whimper at the loss of his fingers.  
Derek makes quick work of the condom and the lube and he lines up to Stiles' hole. 

Derek pushes his cock against Stiles' hole and slowly pushes in. They both groan at the intrusion.  
Derek has to fight over his control. He can feel his claws coming out, and his eyes turning blue. 

Slowly, inch by agonieing inch, Derek pushes into Stiles. 

Stiles is whimpering and his hands are everywhere, trying to find a hold on. Eventually they are slung over Derek's neck, drawing Derek's face close to his.  
His legs are crossed over Derek's back, giving Derek better access. 

And then finally, Derek bottoms out. They both are catching their breaths. Looking each other in the eyes. They kiss for a while, long and sweet, without hunger, just love. 

When they come up to breathe, Stiles nods and Derek sets a slow pace of getting in and out of Stiles. Both of them getting used to the feeling. 

For a few moments there is no sound but the slapping of skin on skin and their laboured breathing. 

Then

"Derek, faster, please!" 

Derek growls and moves faster and harder. He buries his face in Stiles' neck and starts sucking hickies. 

"Please, Derek! Claim me!"

Derek freezes. 

"What?" 

"Claim me. Bite me. Please. Let everyone know I'm yours."

"You sure?"

"Yes! Now move, goddammit!"

Derek laughs and starts again, but with a brutal pace. He has to bite Stiles the moment he comes. 

"Aah, yes, right there, Der! Right there!"

Stiles throws his head back against the pillows, baring his long neck for Derek. The wolf in him is preening. Stiles is the perfect mate for him. Only je gets to see him like this. 

"Derek! Please! I'm c - I'm coming!"

Derek feels Stiles clenching down on his cock and that is all it takes. 

His teeth come out and he bites down on Stiles' neck, right where it meets the shoulder as he comes. 

Stiles cries out as the last of his orgasm hits.  
Derek pulls his teeth out of Stiles' neck and licks it clean. A perfect permanent mark. 

Both are breathing hard, still coming down from their high.  
Derek lesns forward to kiss Stiles and they kiss lazely, until the situation gets a bit sticky. 

Derek pulls out of Stiles, takes of the condom, ties it closed and throws it away.  
He gets up and walks to the bathroom.

A few seconds later, he comes back with a washcloth and starts cleaning Stiles up. 

Stiles is grinning in the bed, still high from the act. 

"Man, best sex ever!"

Derek laughs at Stiles reaction. 

"Come on, let's get some sleep," Derek suggests. 

He crawls back into bed and pulls Stiles back flush to his chest. 

"Always the big spoon, aren't you?" Stiles smirks. 

"Shut up and go to sleep," Derek mumbles into Stiles hair. 

Stiles giggles. Giggles! But eventually, he too, falls asleep. 

"Love ya, big guy," Stiles mumbles and is out like a light. 

Derek freezes for a moment.

"Love you too, Stiles," Derek whispers, he kisses Stiles on the neck and on the claiming mark and promtly falls asleep as well. 

It is the first night in which both of them have sleept better than ever before.

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first time writing smut, so please don't shoot me!  
> Ricordami basically means "remember me"  
> Title is taken from a song by Il Volo! Check those guys out!! 
> 
> You can find me on  
> Twitter: MargoGovaerts1  
> Tumblr: happilyfoulwolf  
> If you want to vent with me over the trailer or Sterek or both or anything, really!


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